What Happens In Vegas
by SamcedesHumanNature
Summary: Two broken hearts...Lots of alcohol...and the city that never sleeps. What if after a night of drowning your sorrows, you woke up married to Hollywood's Most Eligible Bachelor? Well, that's what happened to Mercedes Jones.
1. One

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee or its characters. If I did, this show wouldn't stink as much! LOL!**

**A/N: Ok, this is my second attempt at a Samcedes story. Just like my last one, this another story that I had previously written for a certain male celebrity of mine and recently for OR characters on Valent Chamber. But I thought I should bring this over to the Glee world with Samcedes as the main. This is definitely AU. So, I really hope that you like it. Please read and review. Let me know what you think. I don't have a BETA, so I'm flying solo on this one.**

* * *

**-Mercedes-**

My eyes flutter as I finally awaken from my slumber. Sitting up, I look around the room, and realize, _where the hell am I_? Looking down I also realize that I am not wearing any clothing. What the hell happened here? I seriously don't remember coming here. Gosh, I have such a fucking headache. How much did have to drink last night?

Turning and looking down to my right, I see a masculine arm. _Oh God no_!

I cringe slightly, and as I quickly and silently roll the plush comforter down my body, I slowly get out of the bed. Wobbly, I try and grab every piece of clothing I owned, which had been strewn across the entire room. And I quickly, but quietly tip toe towards the door. I definitely did not want to disturb who ever it is that was still asleep. Turning the knob slowly, I opened the door, and hastily walked out. I closed the door without making a sound.

As quick as I can, I try to throw on every piece of clothing that I had picked up, while rushing towards the elevator, nearly tripping over my own feet. Pressing the down button, I nervously waited for the elevator, running my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look like I hadn't just walked out of a strangers room. As soon as the bell dings, and the doors slide open, I quickly walk in. But before I get two feet into the elevator, a man, who is staring at me, _hard_, walks out. He didn't think I could hear, as he muttered a _damn_, as he brushes past me. I just shake my head and press the button to close the door.

I have to get the hell out of here.

* * *

**-Sam-**

I wake up the sound of loud, excessive banging on my door. _What the fuck_? Sitting up, I stretch my limbs and look down. _Why don't I have any clothes on_? _What the fuck happened last night_? My head also feels like somebody socked me with a sack of nickels.

Standing up from the bed, I quickly search for my boxers. I then find them thrown up against the lamp post, next to the bed. Seriously, what the hell happened last night?

"Alright, damn! Hold your _fucking_ horses, I'm coming." I rush to the door, as the banging grows louder. "Who is it?"

"Who do you think it is?" The person on the other side yells. I know that voice. It can't be no one other than my best friend, Puck. Swinging open the door, and there he was standing. "Dude, you look like shit." Is the first thing he tells me, walking into the room.

"Thanks." I sarcastically say, running a hand through my hair.

I really don't have time for his shit today. I feel like I'm the walking dead.

"Damn, what the _fuck_ happened in here?" He asks looking at the complete mess in my hotel room. He turns to look at me with a questionable stare. "What did _you_ do when I left?" He says picking up an empty bottle of champagne, turning it over.

I have no fucking clue. _Did I drink that __**entire**__ bottle myself_?

I pick up my jeans, that were also strewn some where across room, and begin to slip them on. "Man, I honestly don't know." I sigh, sitting down on my disheveled bed, the pounding in my head intensifying.

"You don't remember?" He says now looking at me very strangely.

"Did I stutter?" I reiterate, causing him to roll his eyes at me. "The last thing I remember was arguing with Kitty on the phone, and then going down to the bar for a couple of drinks."

Puck walks towards me, and takes a seat next to me on the bed. "A _couple_? What do you mean by a couple?"

I shrug my shoulders. _How the fuck should I know_? _Didn't I say I don't remember_?

"Bro! You _so_ got fucking wasted last night." He points out what I already knew.

"No _shit_ Sherlock." I spit at him, rubbing my hands through my hair again.

"Did you hook up with someone?" He asks me.

I look back up him. "_No_!" _Did_ _I_?

"Yes, you did." He stands to his feet. "That would so explain why this room look like a fucking tornado hit _full blow_. And why it took you so long to answer the door. And it would also explain that _hot piece of curvaceous ass_ that I just passed in the hallway, with the wrinkled clothes and the jacked up hair."

I quickly look back up at him. "_Ass_? What ass?"

"When I was coming out of the elevator, she was getting on. She also looked like she had one too many herself." He says sitting down next to me again.

I place head back in my hands. "No, no, no, no." I mumble to myself. Kitty is going to kill me if she finds out.

"You _totally_ hooked up, dude. Kitty is going to murder you." Again, he points out something I already know. "If she ever found out about this, she would shit bricks." He chuckles to himself.

I don't find _shit_ funny over here.

"And she's not going to find out." I turn over to him. "This…whatever _this_ is…stays between us. You got it?" I say in a threatening tone.

I swear he better not say a word of this to anyone, or I will pummel his fucking ass into the ground.

"Of course. You know what they say: **What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas**. I've got your back." He pats my back, and then leans over. "Now get up, and get in the shower. Dude, you stink."

I shake my head at my best friend, before getting up and retreating to the bathroom, for my shower.

* * *

**-Mercedes-**

Opening the door to my apartment, I quietly walk in. I silently close the door behind me, and as quick as I can, try to creep up the stairs. I didn't want to wake my roommate. I really didn't want to deal with her this morning.

"Well, well, well, Angel of the morning."

I completely jump out of my skin, as I turn my direction over to the entrance of the kitchen. Apparently, I was not quick enough. There she stands, coffee in hand, and questions now dancing in her light emerald hued eyes, is my best friend and roommate, Quinn Fabray. She is dressed in her favorite pair of grey and pink, Victoria's Secret sweats, and a clean, white tank top. Her long, blonde tresses are pulled into a neat mid-high ponytail.

"Damn, Que, you scared the shit out of me." I practically scream at her, placing my hand over my now racing heart.

"You look like hell." She completely ignores me, and insults me at the same time. "What the _hell_ happened to you?"

"Nothing, I…" I try to say, but she cuts me off.

"Who is _he_, and is _he_ cute?" She asks, and I let out a deep sigh. "_Ooh_, it was one of _those_ nights." She says, knowing exactly what happened last night. Walking over to me, she links her arm in mines. "Come on, girlie, let's get you some coffee, so we can talk about it."

_Do we really have to_?

We walk into our tiny kitchen. I sit down at the dining table, while she places her mug down on her side. She then walks over to the cabinet, grabs another mug, and begins to prepare my coffee just the way I like it. Cream, three sugars.

She hands me my mug, and takes her seat in front of me. "So…_spill it_ best friend."

I shrug my shoulders. "Uh, Quinn…well there's not much to spill." I say taking a sip of my coffee. And that's the truth. I wish I knew what happened myself.

"Come on, Mercy, you walk in the house at," she turns to look at the clock on the microwave, "seven-thirty in the morning. After you've spent the entire night out. And not to mention that Finn just dropped you like a bad habit…" she rambles not noticing that she just kicked me in the goodies.

I sigh. "Quinn!" She knows that the subject of him, is off limits.

I guess she realizes what she just said, because she looks at me with sympathy in her eyes. "Sorry, that just slipped out." She puts her hands up defensively.

I place my coffee mug down on the table. "You know what? I'm just going to go upstairs, take a shower, and get some sleep. I have to work the night shift at the casino tonight."

"Mercedes, I am sorry. I didn't mean to say that." She apologizes once again.

I stand to my feet. "No, it's fine." I wave her off.

I just really don't want to talk anyway.

She stands up behind me. "What's _that_?"

"What's what?" I look at her. What is she talking about?

"That…" she points to my left hand. "That's an interesting ring. I've never seen it before. Is it new?"

What ring? What is she talking about? I don't have a ring on my left hand.

I look down at my hand. _Where did that come from_? I don't remember putting that… "Oh, _my_ God." I say out loud. I seriously hope this isn't what I think it is. "_Oh_, _my God_." I repeat.

I guess Quinn puts two and two together, because she quickly rushes to my side. "_Oh, My God, you didn't_?!" She grabs my hand to examine the ring closely. She then looks back up at me, and gasps. "You _did_. Oh, my God, Mercy. You _totally_ got married last night."

_Oh, hell to the no_!

* * *

**-Sam-**

After I finish my shower, I walk out of the bathroom. I notice Puck standing next to the bed, reading a piece of paper.

"Noah Puckerman, _reading_? Let me get my camera. This is definitely a Kodak moment." I say chuckling at my own joke.

He turns to look at me. "Ha, ha. Very funny, _asshat_." He smirks at me. "You won't be laughing so much when you read this." He holds the paper towards me.

"What's that?" I ask slipping on my black Henley.

"According to this lovely document that I hold in my hand," he waves the paper in the air, "you got a little _more_ than laid last night, my friend." He says smirking. What the hell is talking about? "This," he waves the paper again, "is a marriage license."

_Excuse me_?! _What the fuck did he just say_? "What did you just say?" I ask Puck. I really need to have my ears cleaned. Because it sounds like that my best friend just told me that I had gotten married. He's joking. He's got to be joking. "You're funny, Puck. I wish you would quit joking." I let out a nervous chuckle.

But he wasn't laughing at all. "I wish this was a joke, dude." He walks over to me, and hands me the paper.

And there it is. In black and white. This is a marriage license. And written on it was definitely my full name and signature, along with a woman who's name is Mercedes Denise Jones. But this…this _can't_ be real. "This can't be real, Puck. And if it were real, then where is my ring?" I lift my left hand to show that was no ring there.

"What's _this_?" Puck says picking up the cheapest, tackiest gold band I've ever seen, that lay on the side of my nightstand. That looks like a wedding ring to me.

"_Fuck_."

* * *

**So, Sam and Mercedes have gotten drunk and apparently married in the city that never sleeps.**

**What are they to do now?**


	2. Two

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own Glee.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, follows and faves. I really appreciate it so much. Also, there is a line that I took from one of my favorite shows, One Tree Hill. I kind of twisted some of the words around to make it my own. LOL!**

* * *

**-Mercedes-**

"How could you get _married_, Mercy?!" Quinn yells while pacing our living room floor. "How _stupid_ could you be? I mean, like, this is so cliché. And what makes it worse, is that you're not even a tourist. You _live_ here. You should have known so much better." She whines. "This is _so_ bad." She continues, and I sit there just watching.

_Geez, she acts like she was the one who got drunk and hitched_.

This has been going on for at least two hours now. Quinn has been going on _and on_, scolding me about this alleged marriage of mine, which I'm not even sure that it actually happened. Ok, yes, I do have a ring. But that could be from anywhere. It doesn't mean that I am married. _Right_?

And Quinn just continues to keep going. Right now, I feel like I just want to walk right up to her, and stuff my balled up panties, that are still in my purse, down her throat. She is _definitely_ getting on my nerves.

"I know, Que." I sigh for the umpteenth time within a fifteen minute period. "Look, I don't even remember anything that happened last night. The only thing I _actually_ remember is walking into some bar, and _lots_ of cocktails." I try to explain to my irate best friend. "Everything else is completely black."

Quinn stops in mid-pace, turning towards me. "Do you at least remember what the guy looks like, Mercy?" I shake my head.

Didn't I tell her, I don't remember anything, but the drinks? Those _lousy_, _dreadful_, _ghastly_ drinks. God, I am _never_ drinking. _Ever_ again.

Quinn lets out a frustrated groan. "When you woke up in his room, didn't you see his face?"

Again, I shake my head. "No, he was laying on his stomach, and his face was turned away from me. And besides I wasn't really thinking about trying to see what he looked like. I was trying to get the hell out of there."

She nods. "Ok, we have to find a way to fix this."

"How can we, Quinn? I don't remember anything. What if I'm not even married?"

"You _have_ a ring." She points towards my left hand, which is now empty, because I had ripped that _fugly_ piece of shit from my finger as soon as I saw it.

"That doesn't mean anything. I could have gotten that ring from anywhere."

"Really now?" She folds her arms across her chest, looking down at me, like I am a child who just got sent to timeout. "So, you found that ring and just put it on your finger just for the hell of it?"

I am starting to wonder why my headache won't go away. "I don't know, Quinn. But does that necessarily mean that I married some strange guy? I mean, we don't want to jump to conclusions here, right?"

She sighs, running her hand over her ponytail. "Well what we need to do is go back to that bar, and start asking questions. You do remember which bar, don't you?"

I'm coming up blank. "I don't know. It was one of them at the Palms." Here it comes. She is really going to chew me out now.

Quinn throws her arms in the air, frustrated. "_Great_! A needle in a _freaking_ haystack."

You're _telling_ me.

I watch as she turns to the side, and takes in a deep breath, calming her nerves. She then turns back towards me, walking over to our loveseat, that I am curled on. "Come on." She grabs a hold of my right forearm, that was resting comfortably on the arm of the chair.

What is she doing? "What?!" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"We are going to find your husband." She says while pulling me off of the couch. Again with the husband thing. "You are _never_ drinking again, Missy."

_Great_! Exactly what I need. Another mother.

* * *

**-Sam-**

"Dude, would you quit pacing the damn floor. You're making me dizzy." Puck says as I desperately pace back and forth across the room floor, of the hotel suite. I stop and give him an evil glare. Sighing, I begin to pace the floor again. "Sam, pacing isn't going to solve your problems. The only thing it's probably going to do is burn a whole in the floor."

I stop once again. "Puck, enough with that shit ok. I'm just…I'm just trying wrap my head around this." I say before letting out a frustrated growl, and plopping down on the bed. "What am I going to do?" I turn to my best friend. "What am I going to tell Kitty? How am I going to explain this to the woman, who's constantly told me that I was afraid of commitment?"

"Well, you're committed now, buddy." Puck jokes, and I actually laugh at it. But then he shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe we can look for this girl, and you can get this whole thing annulled before Kitty even finds outs."

And now, I'm back to reality. That's the dumbest thing I ever heard. And it's never going to work. "That's not going to work, idiot. Once the press gets a hold of this, _and they will_, it will blow me out of the fucking water."

"Right." Is the only thing he says.

What kind of friend is he? He couldn't come up with anything better to say than, _right_?

"You are no help, Puck." I roll my eyes at him.

"_Me_?!" He protests. "I wasn't the one who poured Jack Daniels down your throat, _impairing_ _your_ _judgment_, and _forced_ you down the aisle. Now, I just tried to offer you the best advice I _could_ offer, and you called me an idiot." He stands up from the bed. "You've got yourself in this shit. Now you find your own way out of it…by yourself." He then walks towards the door.

What the hell is he mad at me for? I didn't do anything to him.

"Puck, what are you, pissed? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get a drink." He turns the knob, and opens the door. "And trust me, I am going to make sure I won't get married."

I look over at the digital clock by the bed. "Puck, it's not even noon yet."

He looks down at watch, and back up at me. "Well, I'm…I'm just…screw _you_." He walks out, slamming the door in the process.

Can we say, _attitude_? Ok, yeah, maybe I did call him an idiot, but his advice was stupid. Oh, well, I'll just wait until he calms down. He'll be back. He always comes back.

* * *

**-Mercedes-**

"Quinn, we've been to three bars here, and _nobody_ remembers me. What more is there to do?" I whine my latest complaint as I trail my best friend, as we walk around the **Palms Casino**, desperately trying to find the guy that I did or didn't marry.

She stops, and turns around to me. "Uh, we can do all we can. And besides, we've just started. Somebody's bound to remember you." She turns back around, and begins to walk again.

I just fold my arms across my chest, and follow behind her. I am really starting to regret this.

"Que, this is _hopeless_!" Another complaint falls from my lips.

She stops, and turns around to me again. "Well," she begins to walk towards me, "keep the hope alive, sister." She grabs my elbow, and drags me toward our next destination.

Another bar, _yippee_!

Quinn and I walk into the practically empty bar. I could count on one hand of how many people were there. Actually, I would be kind of scared if there were more people in here drinking before noon.

Quinn and I then make our way to the bar stand. Quinn leans down, and I take in the scenery. For this to be in one of the greatest hotel casinos on the Las Vegas strip this particular bar is not all that's cracked up to be. From it's poor lighting and its drab interior, yeah this place doesn't look all that great. I seriously hope I was not here last night.

"Excuse me, bartender person!" Quinn yells down to the bartender, who was in a casual conversation with what look like this month's Playboy Playmate.

This woman looks like she is trying to win a Pamela Anderson look-a-like contest. And she's not very good at it. She has the bleached blonde hair, the triple d cup sized silicone breasts, the whole I got my lips stuck in a pool drain thing going on, the whole nine. And she's also trying to rock Pamela's barely there, risqué wardrobe attire. It doesn't look flattering on Pamela, what makes her think she looks any better. Actually, the only thing on her that was a hot were her very expensive Mary Jane Manolo Blaniks. But, I guess to each his own.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the bartender recognizes us, but only nods in response. _Ok, that was mean_. He then goes on to continue his conversation, or boob watch, with that Baywatch wannabe.

Quinn scoffs in annoyance. "_Hello_!" She screams to him again, but this time he just holds his index finger up at us, before turning back to Hugh Hefner's newest project. Quinn scoffs again, and turns back to me. "What do you have to do in order to get some damn service around here?"

I sigh. "Apparently have store bought breasts."

She chuckles.

Then a dark and mysterious man walks up to us. He first turns his attention toward Quinn. I watch as she throws a fake smile his way, and turns back to me. But he just keeps staring. Seriously, he is kind of creeping us out.

"Ok, guy in need of a clue…" Quinn turns back to him. "Here's _one_…" She leans down to him. "Women send signals, and _that_ was a brush off. Now before you dip into your pool of shallow wit, let me paint us a picture, and save us both the trouble. Here's your day: _you_ are going to slink back off to where ever it is that you came from, _laugh_ this off, possibly _get_ wasted, go home and make nice with yourself…" it looks like he's trying to say something, but she cuts him off, "…but _don't_ be thinking of me. 'Cause even your _fantasy_ of me isn't interested in you." She finishes and turns back to me. "The nerve of him."

I can not believe that she just did that. I grab her by her elbow, and yank her towards me. "Quinn, don't you think that was a little harsh?"

She looks at me as if I am the crazy one. "No! He was staring at me like I was the last piece of meat in the Serengeti, and he was a hungry hyena."

Huh?! I'm not even going to ask what that means.

"Actually…" A voice came from behind us. Both Quinn and I turn to see the guy that Quinn just basically told to step off.

"Didn't I just tell you to disappear?" She scowls at him.

I slap her arm. "Quinn?!"

"First off all," the guy stresses, "this is a _free_ country _and_ a public bar. So, I'll leave when I'm good and ready to." He spits at her, and she just scoffs at him. Wow, that's the first time I've ever seen Quinn speechless. I need to ask him how he did that. "And I wasn't staring at you." He continues, still talking to Quinn. "I was staring at _you_." He points to me.

"_Me_?!" I point to myself. Why the hell was he staring at me?

He nods. "Yeah. You look really familiar to me. Have we met?"

I have never seen this man in my life before. "Not that I can think of." I say, shaking my head.

"Wait, were _you_ here last night?" Quinn asks him.

He glares, turning to her. "Why?" He says, his voice dripping with irritation.

Again, Quinn scoffs, before turning to back to look at me. "Ok…_attitude_."

He clears his throat. "Well, you gave it to me first. Assuming that I was actually interested in you." He spits at her.

_Whoa_…

Quinn folds her arms in anger. "Look you little…_person_…you.."

He cuts her off. "To answer your question, I wasn't here last night. But you just look so familiar to me. I can't really put my finger on it."

Seriously, I don't know who this guy is. "Well, I don't know." I shrug my shoulders.

It looks like he was in a train of thought, but then he speaks up again. "Were you here last night?"

"I thought you said you weren't here." Quinn steps in again.

He looks at her, ignores her comment, and turns back to me. "Were you?"

I nod, hesitantly. "Uh, yeah."

He jumps up immediately. "Now I remember you. I saw you this morning." He did? "I was getting off the elevator, and you were getting on."

Oh, he's the _slime ball_ that muttered damn when he saw me. Now I remember him. "Ok, yeah."

"Look, _Stalker Boy_, what is your point behind this?" I guess Quinn was tired of being left out, when she butts back in.

Again he rolls his eyes at her insult. "Well, I'm just trying to solve a little problem for my friend. He sort of had way too much to drink last night, and ended up in a lot of trouble."

I know _exactly_ what he's going through.

"Nice story." Sarcasm sounding in Quinn's voice. "But what does _your_ friend have to do with _my_ friend?"

The guy lets out a heavy sigh, looking in my direction. "Is she _always_ like this?" He points toward Quinn.

I am about to say something, but I am cut off. "Don't talk about me while I'm standing right here. It's rude." Quinn scoffs.

"Quinn!" I grab her to pull her close to me. I turn back to the guy. "I'm sorry…" I trail hoping he will get the hint, of the fact that I don't know his name.

And he does. "Puck. My name is Puck." He sticks his hand out for me to shake.

I hesitate, but shake his hand anyway. "I'm Mercedes, and this is…"

Quinn cuts me off once again. "_Rachel_."

Oh, _sweet_ Lord…

I look at my best friend, as if she were crazy. Because she is acting like she is.

"You really think I'm _stupid_?" This Puck guy asks Quinn…or _Rachel_…whoever she wants to be called. "She's called your name, like, twice here, _Quinn_."

She scoffs yet again. "Well, aren't you quite the smarty pants."

I swear, watching these two are like watching elementary kids argue over who gets to play in the sandbox first. It's irritating.

Puck just shakes his head, and focuses back on me. "Well it's nice to meet you, Mercedes." He says looking me up and down. He does stare at you like you're the last piece of meat in the Serengeti, and he's a hungry hyena. He clears his throat. "I know this is completely insane, but is your full name Mercedes Denise Jones?"

How could he possibly know that? Ok, really what the hell is going on? "How do you know my name?" I ask him in complete and utter shock.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He completely ignores my question and I just stare blankly at him. "That's what I thought. Well, I have a pretty good idea of what happened."

"What?" I ask him. How could he know what happened to me last night?

"Just come with me." He tells me.

"We're not going anywhere with you." Quinn steps back in.

He looks in her direction. "I never said _you_ could come. I was only talking to Mercedes." He looks back at me. "Now do you want your answer or not?"

I sigh. "Look, Puck, I don't know. If I do go with you, Quinn has to come too."

"Mercy!" Quinn shrieks, now pulling me close to her. "We are not going anywhere with that _psychopath_. He knows way too much information about you. He could have, like, a shrine with all of your pictures and chicken's blood," she rambles and Puck and I stare at her blankly, "and dolls with pins in their foreheads. He could be doing all sorts of crazy things. That's how women get chopped up into little-" Finally, Puck shuts up her crazy, lunacy, when he cuts her off.

"Don't you just ever shut up?" He spitefully spits at Quinn, offended by the over-the-top, crazy portrayal of him.

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" She spits back.

"Ok, you two," I say, stopping the two bickering adults, who are acting more like children. "Let's just get this thing over with." Now I turn to Quinn. "Que, he could be right. I need to know what really happened last night. This was your idea, right?"

She rolls her green eyes, before sighing. "Fine." But before I turn back around to Puck, she pulls me back to her, whispering in my ear, "I'm just saying, Merce, he could be crazy. You never know."

I just shake my head at her words, before putting on a smile. "Good." I turn to Puck. "Where to?"

Quinn and I follow as this Puck guy -what kind of name is Puck anyway?- leads us to a hotel suite. If I wasn't so desperate to solve this mystery about the missing pieces of what happened to me last night, then I would have never decided to come up here. I guess that's the price you pay for consuming too much alcohol.

I'm telling you again, I am _never, ever_ drinking again.

Stopping in front of a hotel room, Quinn and I stand arm-in-arm, and watch as Puck digs down in his pocket, fishes out a key card, and swipes it. As quickly as the light turns green, he opens the door to the room. He walks in, as Quinn and myself stay planted by the door.

When we didn't follow, Puck turns around. "You guys can come in."

"We're fine here." Quinn says.

He sighs, raising his hands in his defense. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you. And on the contrary of what you think, I'm not a psychopath." He says turning to look at Quinn.

Quinn rolls her eyes at him. "We don't know that for sure. But I swear if you touch me or Mercy, I've got the police on speed dial." She pulls her phone out of her back pocket. "Just _one_ button." She holds it up, lightly pressing on the number _one_ button.

Again, Puck sighs. "Fine. Just come in."

Quinn and I look at each other before giving in and walking into the room, closing the door behind us.

"Sam!" Puck yells out.

Quinn and I ignore Puck as we look around the room. Seriously, where is the cleaning lady when you need her? This room looks worst than our apartment dumpster on garbage day. The sheets are balled up on the bed. The comforter is tossed to the floor. Empty beer bottles, along with mini bottles of tequila and vodka, lay scattered across the floor. And I think I've seen at least two empty bottles of champagne some where around here. _And is that my bra tucked under the curtains_? I was looking for that earlier this morning.

Apparently, Quinn notices too, because she leans down to whisper in my ear. "This room is disgusting. I mean I can just see the germs in here."

Couldn't say that I disagree. This place is a dump.

"Samuel!" We hear Puck yell again.

"Yo!" Another voice echoes throughout the room.

Who is _that_?

"Hey, I need you to come out here, man." Puck yells back to other voice. "I have something you should see."

I am really not liking the way this guy is talking about me. Like I'm some kind of object.

Ten seconds later, coming from around the corner, is the person Puck was yelling at. At an instant, I feel my heart skip a beat, my breath hitches in my throat, my palms becomes moist with sweat, and the butterflies swarm in my belly, when I notice his gorgeous smile and smoldering, jade eyes. Quinn feels it too, because her hand squeezes a little tighter on my arm. We both turn to look at each like we couldn't believe that we were in the room with him.

We're standing in the same room with Sam Evans. Hollywood's _it_ guy. I mean he's everywhere. He's graced every cover of every magazine. He's been in at least over twenty films. Three of them just this past year. Women _love_ him. Men want to _be_ him.

What the hell are we doing here, in _his_ room?

"So, you're talking to me now?" He says letting out a deep chuckle. He has towel draped around his neck, and he smells like he just stepped out of the shower, with a hint of old spice.

"Sam, my plan isn't so dumb after all." Puck says smirking at Sam.

_Plan_? What _plan_?

"Why do you say that?" He says, having yet to notice Quinn and myself.

"Sam, I would like you to meet," Puck begins walking towards me, "Mercedes…" he stands behind me, pushing me forward, "…you _wife_."

His _what_?

Did I just hear this guy correctly? Did he just say _his wife_?

Oh, goodness grief. Is this really happening? Seriously, is this really happening? Did I get drunk and married Sam _freaking_ Evans?

* * *

**-Well, Sam and Mercedes meet for the first time since their drunken wedding. How is that gonna go down?**

**-I'm already in love with Quick in this story. They will be my lovely comic reliefs. So, expect more bickering and fighting to come :)**

**-Again, thanks so much for the love!**


	3. Three

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own Glee.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, follows and faves. I really appreciate it so much. It is what keeps me motivated. Thanks so much! No Beta. Flying Solo!**

* * *

**-Sam**

So, here I am standing, completely in shock, in front of the woman that Puck says is the woman that I supposedly married last night.

_Again, how much did I really drink last night_?

Well, she is kind of cute. _Scratch_ that, Puck was right. Not to sound demeaning, but..._damn_. She has gorgeous milk chocolate almond-shaped eyes, cute ass dimples, a cute button nose, and long, silky dark brown hair. Her chocolate skin looks so smooth and soft. And from what I can see a round, ample…_Ok what am I doing here_? I have a girlfriend. And I _love_ her. I love… What's her name? _Kitty_! That's right. My girlfriend's name is Kitty.

I just can't believe that Puck brought this complete stranger into my room. I don't know her. She could be some crazed stalker trying to get close to me. Trust me, it wouldn't be the first time. Well…I don't know, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. I mean…_seriously, stop it_! I love Kitty. I _love_ my girlfriend.

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I turn towards to my best friend. "Puck, can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, and he nods walking my way. "Excuse us ladies." I tell the two women, before grabbing Puck by his collar, and dragging him into the bathroom. I slightly shut the door, making sure the girls don't hear. "Are you _insane_?" I shove him in the shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" He questions, rubbing the spot on his shoulder where I pushed him.

"Why did you bring two complete strangers to my hotel room?" I whisper trying to make sure that the two girls can't hear me.

"Technically," he points his index finger my way, "they're not strangers. You got drunk and married one of them." He smiles wide, and I just want to slap it right off his face. "And not bad by the way either." He then peeps out the crack of the door to look at the girls. "Mama's sexy as hell. Her friend's kind of cute, but annoys the hell out of me." He then looks back at me, still smiling.

I then let out a heavy sigh, running my hands over my face. "Puck, this is serious. This can _not_ be happening. I can _not_ be married. You _do_ remember that I have a girlfriend?"

He nods. "Of course. But apparently _you_ didn't last night. But now that you know who this girl is, you can quickly have this thing annulled by the end of the day. You've got the cash to keep people quiet, and Kitty will never know." He crosses his arms over his chest. "And if the media does find out, there's one thing you can do: _Deny, deny, deny_, my friend." He reaches out to pat my shoulder.

Again I sigh, taking in what Puck says. Maybe he's right. I do have the funds, and I could have this, whatever _this is_, will be over, quick and painless, before the media finds out. Now the trick is trying to get this girl to cooperate.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

**-Mercedes**

"Oh, my _GOD_, Mercy! Can you _believe_ it?" I turn to Quinn as she pulls me closer to her, whispering in my ear. "You married Sam _freaking_ Evans. I totally take back everything I said, this was so not stupid at all."

_Can you believe her_?

"Quinn," I whisper back, "this is the dumbest thing I've done. Just because I married Sam Evans doesn't make it ok." I can't believe I just said that.

It feels like I'm in a dream right now. I can't believe that I got so drunk last night that ended up married to one of the hottest and sexiest movie stars on the face of the earth. And I don't even remember any of it.

"C'mon, Mercy, aren't you the least bit excited that you had sex with Sam Evans? And _married_ him?" Quinn whispers, again. Seriously, what happened to the girl who chewed me out for over two hours for marrying while intoxicated? I want _her_ back. I really don't need her encouragement right now.

"Quinn, we need to focus here." I grab her by her shoulders. "I can not stay married to this guy." _Am I crazy_?

I watch her eyebrows knit in confusion. "And why not, Mercedes?" _Is she serious_?

"There are tons of reasons I shouldn't stay married to him. _One_, being the fact that this happened through a tequila induced decision. _Two_, I believe he has a girlfriend." I point out, "and _three_, oh yeah, he's _Sam Evans_."

"Well, _one_, who's fault is that? _Two_, they are always off and on." How would she know that? "And _three_, he is Sam _freaking_ Evans."

"And that makes it so much better?" I question her. "Trust me, if I wasn't good enough for Finn, I'm damn sure not even in Sam Evans's league, ok."

And before Quinn can say anything else, Sam and Puck both return from the bathroom. And the four us just stand there, staring at each other. I look to my right and see that Quinn has the cheesiest grin upon her creamy face. And then I look straight ahead of me and sees that Puck's grin matches Quinn's.

This eerie silence is killing me. I wish somebody, anybody will say something.

And then I hear Sam clear his throat. Finally. "Um," he begins stuffing his hands in his front jean pockets, "so…" And then he goes blank. _Oh, come on_.

Again, another silence falls upon us.

"I'm such a huge fan!" Quinn just completely blurts out and I turn to look at her in shock. She then looks at me and shrugs. And I look over at Sam who just rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Sam…Mr. Evans…I don't know what to call you," Quinn continues, letting out a small chuckle. "I've seen all of your movies. There really…_great_." She finishes with a cheery smile plastered across her bright face.

He just smiles wearily at her. Great, he thinks we're crazy. Actually, I am petrified _shitless_ out of my mind of what this man is thinking. Right now he's probably thinking that Quinn and I are psycho stalkers, trying to kill him. I don't even want to make eye contact with him. So, I just shake my head, silently cursing myself for every time I picked up a bottle of liquor. That's what got me into this mess anyway.

Again, I am never, _ever, ever_, _ever_ drinking again.

I look back up at Quinn, and she is just about to say something else. But before my hand can reach up to her partially opened mouth, in order to prevent her from saying something else remotely embarrassing, the sounds of, am I hearing this right, **Copacabana**, begins to reverberate through the room.

Puck, Quinn and myself watch as a red faced Sam walks over to the nightstand next to the bed, and picks up his ringing cell phone. He looks back at all of us before sliding his finger across the face of his phone. He sighs heavily before placing it up to his ear. "Hey, Beiste, what's up?" He speaks into the receiver. It doesn't take long before all see his perfectly tanned skin, turns completely white. I watch as he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and his eyes grow extremely wide.

Quinn and I turn to each other, giving each other a What the hell is going on look.

"Uh, Beiste, what are you talking about?" I, again, watch as Sam's Adam's apple bobs, again, as he swallows excruciatingly hard. He sighs heavily, picking up the remote to the TV. I guess he was listening to the instructions that this Beiste person was giving him. He turns on the TV, finding the **E!** channel. "Yeah, it's up there. Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

Quinn and I turn towards Puck, and he's got the same look on his face that we have on ours. WTF is going on? I look toward the TV and that lady, I forget her name. You know the one who married herself. I think it starts with an S or something.

_"Celebrities. What can I say about a bunch of talent-less, half-wit, apes, whose careers are gonna peek at twenty-five before they're either gonna be shoving leeches down their pants on some cracked out reality TV show or fighting for a spot to sit next to Dr. Drew on Celebrity Rehab-that's right, I'm looking at you Cassandra July." _The woman on the screen says_. "But without these so called celebrities, I, your gracious host, Sue Sylvester, would be out of a job._

_So, according to my Jewfro colleague, JBI, his camera crew caught what appeared to be Hollywood's hottest movie star, the star of the box office hit __**Edge of the Broken**__, Sam "Lady Lips" Evans, spotted with an unidentified woman, stumbling out of the Little Chapel of the Flowers near the Las Vegas strip…"_

My breath catches in my throat, as I see the screen appearing to show what looked like Sam and myself, _actually_ stumbling out this very old and tiny looking chapel.

Oh, no. This can not be happening right now. That's _not_ me.

It can't be…it's me.

Damn it!

_Fucking_ alcohol.

"_The two were then seen hopping into a cab, before heading off down the Vegas strip to enjoy a honeymoon that is filled with expensive booze and slightly diseased prostitutes_.

_It turns out that Mr. Samuel Evans is indeed in Las Vegas this weekend to host another uninteresting and useless golfing event for his charity, The Sam Evans Foundation. We're not sure that the two actually got hitched, but we're pretty sure they weren't baking a pie. But from the looks of it, Mr. Bachelor is officially off the market_.

_And the strangest part in this story is that, where is Kitty in all of this? You, know, Sam's sweet-faced, on again, off again girlfriend? The two had reportedly been trying to salvage their rocky six year relationship yet again_.

_Well, we'll get to the bottom of this sticky situation when we have more information for you as soon we are updated_." The lady states.

The TV goes to commercial and I turn to look at Sam. His face is completely blank. He doesn't move. He doesn't make a sound. I then turn to look at Puck, whose face almost resembles the look on Sam's. And finally, I look at Quinn. She's the only one whom makes eye contact with me. Her face reads of complete sympathy, and she pulls me into her embrace. I then bury my face in her shoulder.

And now it starts…


	4. Four

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own Glee.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, follows and faves. I really appreciate it so much. It is what keeps me motivated. Thanks so much! No Beta. Flying Solo!**

* * *

**-Mercedes**

It has been quiet for a very long time now. No one breathing a word. Not one little sound.

The _whole_ world knows. They all know about my indiscretions. My _drunken_ indiscretions. And it was all caught on tape for the entire world to see.

Why me?

I sigh heavily, turning to look at my best friend. Her face says it all.

"I still think we can fix this." We all turn to Puck, who now has the remote in his hand, as he shuts off the TV.

"With what, a time machine?" With her arm still around my shoulder, Quinn questions. "There's actual video evidence of them leaving that chapel."

"Ok," obviously he ignores her snarky reply, rubbing his temples. "Yes, there's a video, but from the looks of it, it was very dark outside and the resolution was a little fuzzy. Maybe it wasn't even them."

"Maybe you're an idiot." Quinn bites back, and I roll my eyes. Here we go again.

"Ok, _that's_ enough." Apparently, Sam has had enough himself, as he throws his hands up, stopping the bickering adults. "I think you should leave us alone for a minute."

Puck nods. "That sounds like a good idea. You and I can come up with a better strategy if we are working _alone_." He throws a look over to Quinn and she mocks him.

Sam shakes his head at his best friend. "No, Puck. Not _us_." He gestures between he and Puck. "I mean _us_." He gestures between himself and me. "So, can you and…" he looks over at Quinn, obviously not knowing her name.

"Quinn." She answers, folding her arms across her chest.

"Quinn, thank you." Sam turns to Puck. "Can you and Quinn step outside for a bit?"

The three of us: Puck, Quinn and myself all furrow our eyebrows in confusion. He actually wants to talk to me? Alone?

"Seriously, bro?" Puck's light eyes questions Sam.

Sam wipes his mouth, nodding. "Yeah. Just for a bit." He pats Puck's shoulder, shoving him toward the door.

"You gonna be alright?" Quinn turns to me, placing her forehead against mine, and I just nod. "Ok. If you need me, I'll be outside."

"Ok." I whisper.

She proceeds to give me a hug, before following Puck out of the room. But not before I hear her say, "I can not believe you got us kicked out."

And then the door shuts.

I swallow hard, starting to regret my decision to let Quinn leave me all alone with Sam. I can't do this. But I know I have to. I'm the one who got myself in this situation in the first place. Now the key is to get me out of this.

But how?

"Since oil and water have left the room," I turn to Sam, as he rubs the back of his neck, "maybe we can finally talk."

I run my hands down the thigh of my jeans. "Sure."

He then proceeds to remove his suitcase from a vacant chair, offering me a seat. As I sit, he takes a seat himself, on the coffee table in front of me.

Things get quiet again. I keep my gaze away from him. Because if I look in his eyes, I don't want to see the disappointment in myself. How I could allow myself get into this situation. But once my eyes do finally make contact with his, he's staring right back at me.

And I realize how beautiful his eyes really are. They are such a tantalizing green. They look so warm and inviting. And my stomach does little flip flops.

He sighs heavily, running his hand across his face. "I'm sorry. This really weird and strange and very…"

"_Awkward_." We say in unison.

We both look at each other and chuckle.

"Do you remember anything that happened last night?"

I shake my head, feeling as if my mind became a black hole that took everything from my memory last night. "No. You?"

Again he sighs, looking down at his feet. "The last thing I remember was talking to Kitty on the phone."

"Your girlfriend?" I ask, needing that confirmation.

He doesn't answer my question, but his eyes say it all. "We were arguing. Actually, I don't even remember what we were arguing about. But I do remember that I was really upset with her. That's when I ended up at the bar for a few drinks. And apparently here at this moment." He chuckles lightly.

As he tells me what he remembers, my eyes blink several times, as I'm suddenly struck with a memory from last night.

"_Text message_." I whisper to myself.

But Sam hears. "What?"

It's coming back really fuzzy, but I'm starting to remember. "I got a text message from Finn." I look up at him and he just looks at me confused.

"Who's Finn?"

I bite my lip, really not wanting to talk about him. Every time, I even think about him, I just want to cry. "My boy…ex-boyfriend."

"Oh, do you remember what it said?"

**-flashback-**

_I had just gotten off work when my cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. I reached down and pulled it out. I saw his name flashing across the screen, alerting me that he had sent me a text message. I remember wanting to delete it, because I didn't want to feel hurt anymore. But since I'm a glutton for punishment, I decided to read it anyway._

**_From: Finn_**

**_Hey, I knw u said u ddnt wnt 2 speak 2 me anymore, but I wntd u 2 knw this b4 some1 else tells u…_**

**-flashback-**

And the memory of that text message hits me like a ton of bricks.

"He's _engaged_…" I whisper, looking back at Sam. "The text message he sent me said that he was marrying this girl named Rachel Berry. The girl I knew he had been seeing for a few months, before we broke up." And the bane of my existence. I then feel the tears immediately in my eyes, so I stand to prevent myself from crying in front of a stranger.

I leisurely make my way across the room, where I end up standing next to the bed. I look down at the nightstand and pick up the paper that is sitting on top of it. I read it over, realizing what it is. It's a marriage license.

_My_ marriage license.

Again he sighs, heavily. "I'm sorry."

I turn to face Sam and see that he has stood up from his seat also, walking toward me. "It's ok." I look back down at the paper and giggle to myself. "You want to know what's ironic?" I look back up at Sam. "When Finn dumped me about a month ago, he told me that I wasn't exactly marriage material."

Sam smiles, stuffing his hands down in his pockets. "If it makes you feel any better, Kitty told me I was afraid of commitment."

"Well, I guess they were proven wrong." I chuckle, waving the paper in the air. This is the first time I've laughed since I woke up this morning. "Thank you. That actually made me feel a little bit better."

"I'm glad I could help." He smiles and then suddenly gasps. "Oh, _shit_."

What just happened here?

"What?"

His eyes turn their attention the hotel door. "Puck and Quinn."

And then I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands. "Oh my God. I forgot all about them."

"They have probably killed each other by now." He rushes over to the door and I follow him.

He then opens the door, and we both find our friends still standing in the hall, apparently still arguing. Sam clears his throat and the two stop and look over at us.

"Hey, buddy." Puck waves, acting as if he hadn't been having a confrontation with my best friend. "Did you two have good talk?"

"Have you two been arguing since you left the room?" Sam completely ignores Puck's question and asks his own.

"More or less." Puck gestures with his hand. "But we both might have come up with some sort of way to start trying to fix this."

Sam folds his arm across his chest. "You two came up with a plan?"

"Together?" I look over at Quinn, who looks just as surprised as Sam and I do.

Who knew?

Sam looks over at me and then back at our two friends. "What's this master plan?"

Puck and Quinn reluctantly look at each before turning to us. "Return to the scene of the crime." They both say in unison.

* * *

**-Sam**

Ok, so after finally coming to terms that I had done something absolutely, incredibly stupid, Mercedes and I ended up listening to our friends' advice, which I had completely objected to in the first place. And here we all are, including Puck and Quinn, because they wanted to tag along, back to the seen of the crime: The Little Chapel of the Flowers.

Hopefully there is a way that we can fix this whole messy situation without having to get legal with it.

I adjust my hat and sunglasses, hoping no one would notice me, and all four of us walk into the chapel in complete and utter silence.

To say that things are a bit awkward between us would be a complete understatement. Although, Puck and Quinn are getting along just fine -please insert huge annoyed eye roll right here-. Those two are going to drive us insane.

"Well _sugar honey iced tea_, if it isn't my two best customers." We all stop in our tracks, as we are greeted by a very tiny woman with blonde hair, way too much make up, and a very little clothing. "So, how's the happy couple?" She place her hands on her little waist.

_Couple_?

_Oh geez_…

Mercedes and I look at each other with fear and then back at the woman.

"I'm guessing we're at the right place." Puck whispers in my ear.

"And I'm guessing these are the two friends that you both kept blathering on and on about. Wait, don't tell me," the woman pauses, snapping her red nails together, "Quinn and Puck."

"Thanks, buddy." Puck turns to me, fist bumping my shoulder.

"Even in your state of intoxication, you still love me." I turn to see Quinn bumping her shoulder against Mercedes'.

And Mercedes rolls her eyes, playfully.

"They just kept going on and on about how you two were missing this special occasion." The woman makes her way around her front desk, standing in front of us. "And what a beautiful ceremony it was." She claps her hands together.

_Beautiful_?

_You've got to be kidding me_?

_We were drunk, lady_!

"Uh," I start to say, but I have no idea what any of this is.

And this woman looks between Mercedes and myself in disbelief.

"Now don't tell me you forgot already? It's April Rhodes." Her red stained lips works up into a huge smile, as she points to a life size picture of herself with her name written in bold glittery letters and the same creepy smile on her face. "But _you_ can call me April." She points and gives Puck a sly wink, and he returns with a smile.

Mercedes, Quinn and I look at her in disgust.

"April, right." I play it off. "Listen April, we actually came here to…"

But she cuts me off, raising her hands into the air. "_Don't_. I know exactly what you're here for." She looks between myself and Mercedes, again.

"You do?" Mercedes says, furrowing her eye brows.

"Of course." She smiles widely. "Your wedding package, silly."

"Wedding package?" Both Mercedes and I say in unison. "What wedding package?"

She shakes her head. "Now don't tell me you forgot that too?" Lady, we didn't even remember that you existed until about five minutes ago.

Mercedes clears her throat and it looks like she trying to let everything set in. "I'm sorry, April, but could you please just refresh my memory?"

And mine too…

April sighs heavily. "Ok, fine. Well, you guys got our special, because Mr. Money Bags here," she jabs those acrylic nails in my direction and I just want to slap it away, "wanted nothing but the best for his beautiful bride to be." She giggles.

And none of us find it funny at all.

"You're blushing." I over hear Quinn sing into Mercedes' ear, and I turn to see a tinge of red flush across her cheeks. Which in return causes me to blush…a little.

"Dude, you're blushing." Puck whispers in my ear. "That's pretty _gay_."

I turn to my best friend, glaring in his direction.

"And what does this package include…again?" Mercedes asks.

April looks between us in bewilderment. "I told you all of this last night. It includes the ceremony, performed by yours truly," she points to herself, "organist, my assistant Gene to walk our lovely bride down the aisle," he wasn't dressed up like Elvis, was he? "You got the rings." I paid for those hideous things? "The bride's veil, and the best professional photographer this side of the pacific. In fact, I have the pictures ready, if want to see them…"

April doesn't even get to finish her sentence, before Puck and Quinn raise their hands and say (ironically), "I do."

Oh, _fuck_ me…

* * *

**-Mercedes**

When April said the special wedding package, she wasn't kidding. Of just our wedding photos only, there are albums, plates, coffee mugs, t-shirts, hats, and even a calendar with twelve specific photos representing each month of next year. Not that I was looking at any of them. Neither Sam nor I want take part in the humiliation known as our drunken wedding ceremony.

Nope, we have enough of that already.

But leave it to our best friends to actually agree on something, again, wanting to see the pictures. And they couldn't stop giggling.

I turn my attention away from the giggling idiots to Sam, as he sighs heavily, looking at April. He has since removed his incognito gear. "Ok, April, not that this is the moment that I will always remember for the rest of my life, but is it possible that we can somehow get a refund?"

The tiny blond shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, but all sales are final." She points a very long, red nail to a sign that obviously states: **ALL SALES ARE FINAL**.

Of _course_…

It's my turn to sigh heavily, as I make my way toward April and my "husband". "Well, you see, April, this can't be real, right?" There has got to be some sort of loop hole here to get me out of this. "I mean, we needed a real ordained minister to sign the marriage license."

"And that's what I am. I've been ordained since before it became something people do, because people are bored." Both Sam and I watch as she walks behind her desk, and comes back with a laminated piece of paper. "See here." She hands it over to me.

I suck in a deep breath, realizing that here in plain black and white. She's legit.

_Fudge_-cicles and ice cream.

"Baby girl, you marriage is as real as this declining economy." April reaches out to rub my shoulder.

Son of a bitch.

"But _we_," Sam gestures between him and myself, "were drunk."

"Hell, ninety-five percent of Las Vegas is drunk." She then leans toward us. "To tell you the truth, I may be a little drunk myself right now." She giggles and I can definitely smell the chardonnay on her breath.

"Well," Sam sighs and scratches his chin, "isn't there some kind of law against marrying two people who are not of sound mind?"

"Oh, _gosh_, no. I've been in this city for almost twenty years. People get married in Vegas for all kinds of reasons, darling." Again, she makes her way behind her desk and bringing back yet another piece of paper. As she shows it to us, we realize that it's another copy of our marriage license. "Now is this your signature?" She points my child-like, chicken scratch of a signature.

And I nod. "Yes."

"And is this yours?" She points toward his beautiful, calligraphy.

And he nods. "Yes."

"Since you have confirmed that these are your signatures, that makes your marriage as legal and binding as if you were married by the courts or in one of those fancy dancy churches."

"Oh, God." I immediately feel sick to my stomach.

"Now." April continues. "Whatever you decide to do with this marriage is completely up to you. My hands are clean of it. You let the courts decide. Which would be an absolute shame. Because you two would make some genetically gifted babies."

"Thanks for your opinion, April." Sam snaps sarcastically.

I suck in another deep breath, letting everything set in.

I'm married…

I'm _married_.

I'm married?

I can't be married…

"Wow!"

I look up at Quinn and Puck, who are now wearing the baseball caps, and is still looking at that damn photo album.

"Who knew you were so flexible, Mercy?" Quinn looks up at me, giving me a sly smirk.

"What are you two talking about?" I sigh heavily. What now?

She giggles turning the album around to face me. I slowly make my way over to my best friend, and I see exactly what she was talking about.

My breath literally caught in my throat at the picture in front of my eyes.

Goodness _grief_…

How the hell did I get myself into that position?

I didn't even I was that flexible myself. I guess not only does alcohol impair your judgment, it also makes you really limber.

"Ok, it's hopeless here, we're leaving." Sam appears by my side.

"But dude," Puck pouts, now diverting his attention away from the album and looking up at Sam, "we just got started. Five more minutes."

He's _got_ to be kidding right?

I shake my head, folding my arms across my chest. I don't want to be here one more minute. "No, Sam's right, we need to get the hell out of here."

"But Mercy…" Now it's Quinn's turn to pout. Seriously?

"Quinn…" I give her a very stern look.

"Fine." She sighs, standing up from her spot next to her new best friend.

"You too." Sam points to Puck, who is still sitting.

Puck shakes his head. "Bro, I'm _not_ her." He thumbs Quinn, and she gives him a nasty look. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready." He takes a defiant stance.

Seriously…

"Let's go." Sam practically growls at his friend and I'm kind of scared for Puck.

"_And_ I'm ready now." Puck quickly stands, stretching his long limbs.

"Better." Sam spits before making his way out of the chapel.

"Thank you so much, April." Quinn says gathering the rest of the crap that is my wedding package, with Puck's help. "We're just gonna…" she nods toward the front door.

April smiles wide. "Oh no, problem, sweetie. Now you know if you two," she gestures between Puck and Quinn, "ever want to get hitched, why don't you stop on by. I'll give ya a special rate."

Quinn and Puck, arms full of junk, look at each other in disgust, before turning to look at April as if she was naked with three heads, before blurting out in unison, "_hell no_."

April looks taken aback at their aggressive answer. And I try to hold in my laughter.

The three of us then walk toward the front door, and before we can get out, Sam hastily walks back in.

"What's going on?" I look at Sam with concern, because his face reads as if he just saw a ghost.

"Change of plans." He says in one breath.

"What happened?" Puck asks.

Sam looks outside and then back at us. "We've been spotted. The parking lot…paparazzi…_lots_ of paparazzi."

You have got to be kidding me?

I groan in frustration as I'm starting to feel sick again.

"How the hell are we going to get out of here?" Quinn screeches in sheer panic.

"Calm _down_." Puck rolls his eyes in annoyance and turns back to April. "April." He smiles, strutting, yes strutting, over to the buxom blonde. Please don't tell me he is going to try to spit game to this lady. "April, _April_, _April_." He leans over the desk, which she is now standing behind. And it looks like he is. Oh, good God. "How are you, sweetheart? You good?"

"Oh, _sweet_ Lord…" Sam groans, running a hand across his face.

"I'm doing fine, Honey." April giggles softly, resting her hand on Puck's forearm. "What can I do for you?"

He clears his throat. "You see my friend over there?" He points to Sam over his shoulder. "He and his beautiful bride are in a little," he pauses trying to figure out the right word to say, before, "_predicament_. Now a woman as beautiful as yourself, can help us out right?" Neither Sam, Quinn, nor myself are buying this.

But I guess April does. "Alright, handsome, if I help you, what's in for me?" She gives Puck another wink.

Sam, having had enough of this, walks over to April and Puck. Quinn and I follow. "Listen, April, do you have a back door, we can use? Because the last thing I need right now is someone shoving a camera in my face."

April sighs heavily, dropping her hand from Puck's arm. "Fine. Just wait right here." She walks over to the front door, locking up, and then back to us. "Follow me." She waves us over.

And without hesitation, Sam grabs my hand and we all follow April to the back.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, we all make it back to Sam's hotel unscathed by the paparazzi. Thank goodness. At least something is going right in this messy situation.

"I can't believe that you go through this everyday. It must be frustrating." Quinn comments, as we walk into the now spotless Presidential Suite. It looked like a completely different room from earlier.

"I mean it does kind of get a little bit frustrating." Puck sighs heavily crashing down onto a vacant couch.

"I was talking to Sam." Quinn spits, sitting opposite of him.

"Don't care." He spits back.

And I let out a frustrated sigh. These two are going to drive me to drink. Even with my vow to never drink again. But being around Twiddle D and Twiddle Dumb all day has been making me want to pull out my own hair. "Can you two, please just get along for five minutes? Or better yet, just shut the _hell_ up. I mean you two act like you're the ones who got drunk and married. No, Sam and I have been very sane and calm through out this entire ordeal, although if he's feeling anything like me right now, he's completely _freaking_ out on the inside. Now we appreciate the fact that you want to help, because you are our friends, but can you put your differences aside for like a second? Because you kids are _driving me crazy_." I rant as everything that's been held inside of me, has now bubbled up and spilling everywhere.

"Ok," Quinn says standing up, "I'm sorry. Ok?" She walks over to me, pulling me into a hug. "I'm sorry."

I let out a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Hey, Mercedes," Sam walks over to us. "Where'd you put our marriage license?"

Ok, that was so weird. This whole situation is just plain weird. But it just sounds even weirder hearing him saying _our marriage license_, as if he were just putting on a pair of socks.

I turn to him. "I left it on the nightstand next to the bed."

And he looks at me confused. "Well, it's not there."

I shrug. "Well, that's where I left it."

He sighs heavily, running his hands over his head. "Maybe I overlooked it. It's got be here somewhere. We're gonna need that thing, if we are getting this marriage annulled."

"Right." I'm not gonna say that didn't hurt.

I'm _not_ gonna say…

"So, what's next?" Puck casually asks, turning on the TV.

"Maybe we should call up a lawyer?" Sam questions, turning to me. "See what our options are?"

"Sounds like a plan." I nod, looking down at my watch. Oh, shit, I didn't even realize how much time has passed. Time does fly when you're investigating your drunken wedding day. "Is it possible if we can stall this until tomorrow morning? I know it's a lot to ask, but I have to be at work in about two hours."

"You're not serious, are you Mercy?" Quinn turns to me. "You can _not_ go to work."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "And why not, Quinn? I don't have anymore sick days to spare and rent is due soon. So, yes, I have to work."

"But don't you think you should lay low?" Quinn exasperates. "I mean there is a viral video of you and Sam stumbling out of that Chapel from two something this morning."

Sam sighs heavily, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I agree with Quinn."

As my best friend, I know that Quinn's intentions are good, but Sam's intentions…I can read what his exact intentions are in those green eyes of his.

"Quinn," I turn to my best friend, "Maybe Puck's right. The video was dark and as of right now, I am currently known as the 'unidentified woman'. And you," I turn to look at Sam, "you don't have to worry. Because I don't want this to get out as much as you do either. So, your precious reputation can survive the morning."

And Sam's eyes soften. "I didn't mean it like that, Mercedes. I just…"

"Hey, guys, shhhhh…" Puck screams at us as he turns up the volume on the TV.

_"Hello, everybody, it's Sue Sylvester again, interrupting your busy afternoon, which you've probably spent shaving your hairy backs. I just have received some breaking news coming straight from Las Vegas. We were the first ones to break to you earlier today that around two o'clock this morning Hollywood Actor, Sam Evans, was spotted by the cameras of my colleague, JBI, with an unidentified woman, stumbling out a Wedding Chapel on the Las Vegas strip._

_We can now confirm that a wedding did happen, and it was Lady Lips'. We have legal proof. A document arrived in my office nearly an hour ago and it was indeed a marriage license between the actor and the unidentified woman, who is now known as Mercedes Denise Jones…"_

Oh, _God_…

Now I'm _really_ gonna be sick.

"Now what was this about going to work again?" Quinn turns to me.

Right now I just want to crawl in a corner and die.

Because this sucks.

I mean, it _really_, _really_ sucks…


End file.
